Chapter 3 - THE NAME MY FAMILY BURIED
I had never heard the name Emma.
That was what I told myself.
But when I saw it on the screen, something inside me reacted before my memory could.
Emma.
A name from childhood.
A girl.
A bedroom.
A locked door.
I stared at the message for nearly a minute.
Daniel noticed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
But I did.
Not clearly.
Not completely.
The memory was buried beneath years of family explanations.
I had been nine years old.
Bethany had been twelve.
There had been a girl who lived two houses away.
Emma.
She had come to our house often.
She was quiet.
Thin.
She always wore long sleeves, even during summer.
I remembered my mother telling me not to ask questions.
I remembered Bethany saying Emma was “dramatic.”
Then one day, Emma disappeared.
My parents told me her family had moved.
I believed them.
Until now.
I looked at Daniel.
“Who is Emma?”
He went pale.
“You remember her?”
“Do you?”
Daniel looked toward the window.
“I found her name in one of Bethany’s old files.”
“What files?”
“I don’t know.”
I grabbed my phone.
“We’re going to the police.”
This time, Daniel did not stop me.
At the station, we were taken into a private room.
A detective named Sarah Collins listened while I explained everything.
She looked at the photographs.
Then the video.
Then the message.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Did you preserve the original files?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She leaned back.
“Your daughter needs a medical examination.”
“I know.”
“And your nephew.”
Daniel nodded.
The detective looked at him.
“Where is your son?”
“At my parents’ house.”
Her expression hardened.
“Then he needs to be removed immediately.”
Two officers went with us.
I stayed in the car with Rosie.
Twenty minutes later, Daniel returned with Marcus.
The boy was silent.
He held a small stuffed dinosaur against his chest.
When he saw Rosie, his eyes widened.
Rosie looked at him.
Then she whispered, “You too?”
Marcus nodded.
That single word broke my heart.
At the hospital, doctors examined both children.
Rosie had bruising to her face and arms.
Marcus had older injuries.
Some were healing.
Some were fresh.
The doctor asked him how they happened.
Marcus looked at Daniel.
Then at me.
Then he whispered, “The room.”
“What room?” the doctor asked.
Marcus closed his eyes.
“The punishment room.”
My hands went cold.
He explained it slowly.
Bethany had a room in the basement.
No windows.
A metal chair.
A camera.
Children were sent there when they “misbehaved.”
Sometimes for hours.
Sometimes overnight.
I looked at Daniel.
He was crying silently.
The doctor continued.
“Who put you in the room?”
Marcus said nothing.
Then Rosie spoke.
“Aunt Bethany.”
The room went silent.
The detective wrote everything down.
Then my phone buzzed.
Another message.
This time, a name.
Emma Carter.
My heart stopped.
The detective looked over.
“Do you know that name?”
I nodded slowly.
“I knew a girl named Emma when I was a child.”
“Last name?”
“Carter.”
The detective opened her laptop.
She typed.
Then stopped.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“Emma Carter disappeared twenty-four years ago.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“No.”
“She was twelve years old.”
I stared at the screen.
Emma’s photograph appeared.
A little girl with dark hair.
Long sleeves.
A frightened smile.
I recognized her immediately.
The detective continued.
“Her parents reported her missing.”
“What happened?”
“Her body was never found.”
I could not breathe.
Daniel whispered, “My God.”
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
The detective turned the laptop toward us.
“Your family was questioned.”
I stared at the screen.
My father.
My mother.
Bethany.
All three names appeared in the old police report.
My father had told police Emma had left our house at 6:30 PM.
My mother had confirmed it.
Bethany had said Emma was upset and wanted to go home.
I looked at the date.
The day Emma disappeared.
I remembered that night.
I remembered my father washing mud from his boots.
I remembered my mother crying in the kitchen.
I remembered Bethany screaming at me to go upstairs.
And I remembered something else.
A sound.
A banging noise.
Coming from the basement.
May you like
I looked at the detective.
“I was there.”
